


Battle Ground

by khek



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Episode: s03e19 New Ground, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-15
Updated: 2012-04-15
Packaged: 2017-11-03 16:20:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/383465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/khek/pseuds/khek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daniel's thoughts during the third season episode "New Ground"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Battle Ground

I should have known.

Anytime we go through the gate and it looks like it's going to be easy, it isn't. P3X774--  
we were killed. Sure, we met the Nox, but we were killed. P3X8596--beautiful planet,  
beautiful people who lived for one hundred days. If Sam and Janet hadn't discovered  
how to deal with those nanytes, Jack would have died of old age.

P2X416--no DHD? No problem. . .we've got a naqada reactor and friendly natives.  
Make that native. Trust me to find the one friendly person on the whole entire planet and  
convince the rest of the SGC that it's a viable trip.

But maybe not so friendly, Nyan seems to have disappeared and left us to their  
equivalent of the military. Nice people.

I'm starting to think like Jack; should that worry me?

**

Lovely little electrified cages they have on this planet.

I think they left the three of us here in what they call "the prison tent" together, hoping  
that we'd start talking about being Optrican spies. . .or Teal'c, our "man in the woods".  
But we're a remarkably quiet bunch. Jack's just scowling at everyone, and Sam's  
withdrawn into herself. Me, I'm just kicking myself for getting us into this mess.  
Figuratively. There's not enough room in this cage to move enough to do it literally.  
These. . .Bedrosians. . .seem to have the same level of technology as we do, maybe even  
slightly more advanced. I'm sure there's some kind of high-tech recording device hidden  
in here, listening to what we say. Hell, we're in a tent. They could go low-tech and just  
have someone outside, on the other side of the canvas.

It's not easy to get comfortable when you can't touch anything. I've never seen anything  
like those weapons they have. They seem to operate on some kind of magnetic/electrical  
principle. Convenient, too. Deliver a painful blast with one end, lock these stupid cages  
with the other. I'm starting to think that the Goa'uld are more humane than these people.  
At least they would give us an entire cell to stretch in.

Malin, Nyan's companion, told their commander that I was the one who spoke to her and  
Nyan. He seemed to dislike me from the moment I mentioned travelling though the  
Stargate. You could almost see the steam rising from his ears.

They took Jack away a little while ago. . .they said they were going to question us  
separately. Sam went next. I think the commander is saving me for last. After his  
reaction to my words earlier, I really don't want to think about why.

****

His name is Commander Rygar, and I don't think he likes anyone. From the questions he  
poses, I assume that Jack must have given him fake answers and Sam probably  
overwhelmed him with techno-babble.

His questions to me were mostly about the Stargate; I tried to explain about the Goa'uld,  
to warn him. If the gate is uncovered, it is quite likely that one of the System Lords will  
eventually come through. Just because Rygar's a jerk doesn't mean his people should  
suffer. He didn't want to hear it though.

Nefertum. Son of Ptah and Sekhmet. From the legends, he wasn't a bad god, but he was  
still a Goa'uld. He took people forcibly from their homes and planted them on another  
planet to worship him. However, I'm afraid the good commander is a religious fanatic. .  
.he doesn't want to hear the truth. He won't allow anyone to tell the truth. . .he made that  
fact painfully clear.

Every time he doesn't like an answer, I get a shock from that lance weapon. The intensity  
of the pain seems to be lessening as I receive more blasts, but I can feel my lungs  
working harder to catch a breath. My joints ache. That's probably not a good sign. But  
hey, these magnetic blasts don't hurt as much as a ribbon device, which feels like it's  
melting your brain from the inside. This just. . .hurts; in a general kind of way, all over.  
I can hold out. Great, now I'm comparing tortures. What happened to learning new  
cultures and new civilizations?

If we can't escape, I don't think Rygar will let us go. We threaten his cozy view of life. I  
think he knows we're not Optricans, but he doesn't want to admit it. I hope Teal'c is  
okay. . .I have a feeling we need his help to get us out of here, or we're dead.

**

They left us in the cages overnight. We could hear digging going on outside. There's  
still no sign from Teal'c.

The few times we tried to talk, we stumbled over our words. Concern for Teal'c was at  
the forefront of my mind, and, I'm sure, of Jack and Sam's. Discussing the SGC, escape  
attempts or rescue plans was not an option, since this time Bedrosian soldiers were posted  
inside the tent with us. It turned out that guarding our tongues was more difficult than  
not talking at all.

Of course, Jack didn't exactly enjoy the silence, so he started complaining out loud,  
comparing the cages to everything from dog runs to those underwater shark cages, which,  
come to think of it, are the perfect analogy. The guards told him to shut up. After Jack  
was shocked for asking them to be reasonable, he reluctantly obeyed.

Time passes very slowly when you can't talk, or sleep, or stretch. I'd love a cup of coffee  
about now. . .

**

It wasn't much past sunrise when two new guards came in; accompanied by Commander  
Rygar's second-in-command. . .I never did catch her name. After another blast of that  
magnetic lance--I guess to incapacitate me, since I didn't do anything to anger them in  
any way--they dragged me outside. The blast wasn't needed. . .my legs are so numb from  
not being able to move them all night that I couldn't have walked on my own, let alone  
run away.

A dead man was lying on the ground, with a hole in the middle of his stomach. Definitely  
a staff weapon burn; I should know.

"Explain," the commander demands, his face cold. Of course, I can't. Not to him. But  
my heart jumps. Teal'c is still alive out there, somewhere.

Rygar lost patience and grabs the front of my jacket. I flinch, thinking he's going to hit  
me, but he just drags me personally across the camp to a hole in the ground, the source of  
all that digging. "Explain," he demands again, throwing me to my knees. Again, I  
refuse. But, God. The DHD. Maybe we *can* make it out of here in one piece. . . We  
just need Teal'c and a key to those damn cages.

** Part Two **

The commander interrogated me for most of the morning. He asked questions and I told  
him I didn't know anything. It became monotonous after awhile. They even used the zat  
gun once, for variety, but I guess I must have passed out for too long. When I came to,  
Rygar acted like he might use it again. I warned him of the effects: one shot, pain; two  
shots, death; three shots, disintegration. I probably shouldn't have given away even that  
much, but I really don't want to be killed by mistake. He went back to what he  
knows…that lance weapon.

I may not be the bravest member of SG-1, but I'm sure in the running for the most  
stubborn. Whatever Rygar does, I will refuse to help him. I'm won't even mention the  
Goa'uld anymore. Let the Bedrosians learn the hard way.

"What happened to my man?" Rygar demands, startling me from a daze. For what seems  
like the hundredth time, I tell him I don't know, that only three of us gated in, that there is  
no other member of my team. He has one of his men hit me with a blast from the lance  
again. I vary my answers, but the response is the same. He asks a question, I say I don't  
know, I get blasted. They must have it on a lower setting, because only now am I  
noticing the after-effects I experienced yesterday. Stiff joints, rapid pulse, sore muscles.

I don't know why these military types seem to think I'm the one who'll break. After all of  
Jack's lessons on shooting and self-defense, I can take care of myself. Sort of. I don't  
look that different from the rest of the team, do I? You'd think they'd pick on Sam at  
least some of the time. Not that I want them to pick on Sam. Or Jack, for that matter.  
No, I'm perfectly happy to be the designated scapegoat if it means that these people won't  
hurt my friends.

I think that not answering at all might work better.

"What does the fourth Optrican spy look like?" Rygar is getting angry. Angrier. I guess  
unresponsive is even more infuriating for him than denial. I try not to meet his eyes. . .a  
technique I learned early in life. On the playground, actually. Bullies assume they're  
winning if they can't see what you're thinking. Don't meet their eyes. . .it was easier  
when I had hair to hide behind.

After a few more painful blasts, I decide that talking might have been slightly better. At  
least it gives me a chance to do something other than wince and bite my lip. "I don't know  
how that man was killed. We are not Optrican spies." Okay, my new theory is that if I  
repeat the same thing often enough, he'll believe me. But, seeing the anger directed at  
me, I'm probably wrong. Big surprise.

He calls for one of his soldiers and points to me. "Go. Bring his companions here. His  
pain doesn't seem to work, perhaps his friends' pain will." I open my mouth at that and  
he leans towards me, anticipation crossing over his face. I press my lips together in a  
firm line. No, I won't give up Teal'c. . .my friend, our only chance of getting out of here.

Jack would hold out. And he would want me to do the same. And besides, I really need  
to see his face right now. Rygar won't dare hurt Jack or Sam. Right? Even as I hope  
that, I look at the man's face and my heart sinks. He's already made up his mind. This  
man will do anything to deny the existence of the Stargate. . . anything to prevent himself  
and his people from discovering that their whole view of life is wrong.

**

They left me in the cage while they brought in two more, then dragged Sam and Jack in  
from wherever they had been. Jack scowled, but shook off the soldiers and got in without  
a word. Once Sam was settled, she looked at me and, reading me as well as she always  
does, asked, "Daniel, are you okay?" I just looked back at her. No, I'm not okay. And  
I'm pretty sure I'm going to get worse.

I was right. Rygar ignores Jack's sarcasm and stares at me. "You have one last chance,"  
he states, his face set in rigid lines.

I give him the same answer. "I don't know how that man was killed. We are not  
Optrican spies."

He may be close-minded, but he's not stupid. Wandering over to the table where our  
weapons are laid out, Rygar picks up one of the zat guns. His eyes fixed on mine, he  
opens it. In a rapid movement, he points the gun and Sam and pulls the trigger. I've  
been shot way too many times now with a zat gun. . .it hurts like hell. I watch, my body  
echoing with Sam's suffering as she spasms, then passes out. Sam will be okay--well,  
alive, anyway. After the zat blast she collapses into a crumpled heap in the middle of the  
cage.

"Is there another one of your people out there?"

"I don't know how that man was killed. We are not Optrican spies." I hope the  
repetition, the desperation in my voice will stop him, but no. He fires the zat gun again.

Rygar watches coldly as Jack, like Sam, convulses and then topples. Jack though. . .Jack  
ends up slumped against the cage side, sparks dancing over his body where it touches the  
grid. His body is shaking with the voltage. I hold my breath, my heart hammering as I  
will Jack to fall away from the side of the cage. He doesn't. I look back to our captors. .  
.Rygar's second in command has an expression on her face that says she isn't enjoying  
this, but Rygar never even looks at Jack, only at me, waiting for the answers he wants to  
hear.

Hating him, hating myself for letting it go this far, I shout, "No! There is not another one  
of my team out there. Turn it off!" Rygar just looks at me, then glances over to where  
Jack's body is writhing with the current. I have never felt so helpless as I do right now.  
Jack, my friend, could be dying, and there is absolutely nothing I can do to stop it. Well,  
there is one thing. I beg them. . .him. . .to turn off the current. "You'll kill him!" I  
repeat, barely able to push the words out, my throat tight. I make the mistake of meeting  
Rygar's eyes.

Rygar takes it as a challenge. He sneers. "No, *you* will kill him." He really believes  
that. . .and he doesn't care. One eyebrow twitches upward as he waits for my reaction,  
staring me down. Well, maybe he does care. . .cares about making me cave in to his will.  
He tightens his grip on the zat gun in his hand, and I catch my breath. Two blasts will  
kill them. I can't let him shoot them again. I can't look away; I'm caught in his gaze,  
paralyzed. Despair overwhelms me. Why couldn't he have stuck to hurting me?

The sound of a disturbance outside catches all our attention. Someone is shouting for  
Commander Rygar. Way in the background, I can hear the sound of the Stargate dialing  
up, then the unmistakable ka-woosh of an opening wormhole. Rygar starts and breaks  
eye contact with me. His gaze turns to Jack. I hold my breath. He walks across the tent  
to turn off the current; I guess he still needs three live prisoners. I heave a sigh of relief  
as he runs out, followed by all his bully-boys. And girl.

A plan. I need a plan before he comes back. Only problem is, I am out of options.

***

General Hammond's voice called to us over our radios. The guard scooped up one of  
them and ran out of the tent, obviously taking it to Rygar. Because SG-1 had missed our  
deadline, the SGC, following procedure, began their effort to locate us. As the General  
alternately threatened, cajoled and shouted at Commander Rygar, the MALP activated.

We could hear Rygar over the two radios remaining in the tent as he spoke in his icy  
voice to Hammond. I know I believed him when he threatened to kill us. . .all the while  
denying the existence of Earth. He sneered at Hammond, even as he tried to figure out  
how Optrican spies were perpetuating what he perceived to be trickery.

The MALP turned its camera eye towards us. I attempted to warn General Hammond  
through the use of hand signals. Unfortunately, I don't really know any hand signals.  
Something we should put on our next workshop. . .communication without words. The  
best I could do was try to show that they had guns, that Jack and Sam were unconscious,  
that. . .the soldiers came running into the tent just then. . .and I tried to motion that they  
should terminate the connection. That signal I know.

Commander Rygar returned to the tent just as Jack and Sam started stirring. I sat still,  
studying my feet, not looking at the man, at the camera. My stomach clenched with  
anticipation. If they didn't figure out what the camera was, maybe Hammond could  
somehow use the inside information to send SG-3 through to help us. I'd love to see the  
Marines right about now. Rygar seemed to know though. He shot the camera, destroyed  
the MALP.

I bit my lip, holding in a groan of despair.

Rygar looked us over with dispassionate eyes. Called for a transport shuttle to move us  
to new facility. That caught all of our attention. If they take us away from the Stargate, it  
will be twice as hard to escape.

While his second-in-command packed up our gear, three soldiers moved us, one by one,  
back to the prison tent. They took Sam first. Jack tried to talk to the Bedrosian woman,  
tried to reason with her. I don't think she's quite as blind to what we are as her  
commanding officer, but she is a soldier, and Rygar is her superior. She ignored Jack's  
words, but made the soldiers take him next. I guess he made her uncomfortable.

We're back in the prison tent. Our weapons are gone. Although it might be interesting to  
see what a Bedrosian city looks like, we have to get out of here before the arrival of that  
shuttle. If we end up in this world's equivalent of Area 51, we will be in serious trouble.  
And I don't think I can tolerate much more of Rygar's. . .interest. No matter what he does  
to me, I won't tell him any secrets of the Stargate. I will tell him the truth about the  
Goa'uld and this planet's past--even if he doesn't want to hear it. I don't know what I'll  
say if he starts hurting Jack or Sam though. We have to find a way out of this.

***

We sit, under guard in the prison tent. Jack and Sam tried to ask me what had happened,  
but I couldn't tell them. The guards threatened to use the zat guns again if they didn't stop  
talking. Is this how Mayborne would treat prisoners at the SGC? Kind of makes me  
wonder.

A loud crash outside signals the arrival of the transport shuttle. Call me crazy, but I don't  
think that they're supposed to land quite that roughly. The soldiers run out again, leaving  
us alone. Voices are shouting outside the tent, the sounds of commotion and frightened  
people humming in the air.

Shots are fired. . .those damn magnetic lances, then. . .a zat gun?

Teal'c?

"Nyan!" Sam says with surprise.

Nyan suddenly strides in through the open flap, carrying an armful of weapons. He  
unlocks Sam's cage.

"Where's Teal'c?" I ask.

"Outside," Nyan answers, looking frenzied. He hands one of the lances to Sam, explains  
quickly how it works, and moves on to my cage, then Jack's.

Jack grabs the offered zat gun. "Daniel, dial us up!" he orders. "We'll lay down cover!"

Teal'c is outside. The DHD is out in the open. We're free.

There are approximately two dozen soldiers out there. There are five of us, with four  
assorted weapons between us.

Piece of cake. We're going home.

The End.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted in 2000 on one of the SG-1 Yahoo lists. (How bad is it that I can't remember the names of the lists anymore?)


End file.
